


Stossgebet (Thrust a Quick Prayer Heavenwards)

by Kitsu



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: And feels, Angsty Wangsty, Because Loneliness, Because Trevor-fucking-Belmont, Blasphemy, Blood Drinking, Dark Magic, Gah, I Wrote Something Not Completely Smutty, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Major Character Injury, Plot, Post-Season 2, Profanity, Season/Series 02, Swearing, and
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22166542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: When Adrian receives a mortal wound while alone in his castle, there is only one person he could think of to save him.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont, Trevor Belmont | Alucard/Trevor Belmont | Alucard, Trevor Belmont/Trevor Belmont | Alucard
Comments: 55
Kudos: 322





	Stossgebet (Thrust a Quick Prayer Heavenwards)

**Author's Note:**

> I swear ~~you swear, Trevor Belmont swears, we all swear~~ , these two own my soul by now. I so should be writing other things, but I don't want to.

His harsh words, jabs and darts thrown indiscriminately at anyone in his path, his cold demeanour, haughty arrogance - it was all a front, a shield for Adrian to cower behind, a front to hide emotions that ran strong and deep, harrowing in their intensity. His shorter than obvious life had been filled with painful opposites, from his parents’ unconditional love to the endless scorn of the other inhabitants of the night world. He stood between, one foot in the dark, one in the light, never fully _anything_ , always tethering on an edge.

When push came to shove and he was presented with the choice between his mother’s love and unconditional forgiveness, and his father’s madness, he already knew which path he would end up treading down, what side of the edge he would land on, but it _hurt_. It hurt so bad, knowing that by his own hand he would become orphaned. No family left, no ties to his father’s world. Very few to his mother’s, even. 

To kill his father and then promptly return to his dreamless slumber, sleeping across ages, until he forgot and was forgotten about, that was his plan. He’d truly turn into the legendary sleeping soldier, cut off from the world, still in his tomb beneath the earth. With no ties to the world he wouldn’t miss, nor be missed.

So he hid his true heart behind a razor tongue and icy eyes, his mask, his defence against the hurt of reality. His tears upon awakening were only for the dry ground to swallow up quickly, like they never fell - only for the rain to wash unseen down his face, only for the wind to dry and the darkness to hide. Never to be seen nor noticed. _His alone to bear_.

He had one goal, one reason to live - to end the curse of Dracula. 

\---

Yet, in the presence of the chaos engines that were Sypha Belnades and Trevor Belmont, keeping his eye on his target, and only his target, proved difficult. 

They were _loud_. They were _brash_. They were quick to anger and quicker to laugh. They were human, so very, very _human_. 

During long days and nights, travelling to the Belmont hold, he listened to them converse between themselves, all good-natured barbs, stories of their previous life, shared hatred of monsters they stumbled upon. Friendly. _Companionable_. They even tried to include him - well, at least Sypha did - especially around their late evening campfires, when twilight fell and it became too cold and too dark to travel safely. Well, _less_ safe in any case, as any time was a dangerous time to travel these days.

Uncomfortable in the presence of such _humanity_ , he often chose to keep quiet, simply observing. Studying their smiles, quick touches, hands and hugs and _ease._ Sypha much behaved the same even towards him, her hand often a comforting presence. 

Belmont though, he only touched him if he was trying to pick a fight or if he was dead drunk and needed a helping hand. All too often a combination of both cases. _But when he did_ … How could a human be so warm? They were all warmer than Adrian, his body temperature just shy of chilly to the touch, or so he had been told. But Belmont… He burned. Radiated heat, like a hearth or a campfire. _Or the sun itself_. 

No wonder night creatures seemed to take an instant and absolute dislike to him - in addition to, and separate from the ancient threat of the Belmont name itself.

Adrian appreciated the warmth during the few occasions Belmont let him experience it. Which was odd, it wasn't as if he ever froze, even though the nights were cold. It was something altogether different. Not physical - yet it _was_. A heat and a stability and a groundedness that was Trevor Belmont himself. Prickly, drunk, crude, yet friendly, fierce and a force of nature. A whirlwind of blessed blades and sacred whips, unabashedly cutting down the evils of the world.

More and more often Adrian found himself staring, _no_ , studying the human. Taking in everything that was him - blue eyes, a multitude of scars, stubbled chin, broad shoulders, keen battle stances. There was no-one like him, though he seemed to do everything possible to have the world perceive him as a big oaf. Most likely because an oaf of a drunkard was much easier overlooked than a Belmont with a whip. It let someone of even his stature go fairly unnoticed throughout the world.

It was absolutely as much a charade as his own coldness. He’d realized if after only a few days in the Belmont’s company. There was so much more to Trevor than he gave the impression of. Moments of greatness, the seeds of a great strategic mind, and an immensely warm heart.

Adrian never admitted his realization to Trevor, though, as the man was simultaneously intriguing and _fucking_ insufferable. And yet, something about him felt like spears and lances breaching the shield wall Adrian had built around himself. 

\---

Spears and lances that ripped his defences to shreds the moment Sypha and Trevor waved their goodbyes, their carriage headed towards whatever town the Speakers were currently huddled up in.

Without his walls emotions came crashing down on him, too much to bear. Ghosts, and memories, and regrets, and a growing desire _not to be alone_. 

He was supposed to go to sleep, to bury himself away from the world. But he delayed, always finding some small or larger reason to not do so. He blamed it on repairs needing to be done, on the Styrian threat looming, on forge-masters and evil creatures. However, he still felt lonely, in the giant castle keep above a vast library of filled with dark lore. So many things to keep himself busy with, yet no company to share it all with.

He admitted it to himself sometimes, the mirror shards in his father’s study was... _tempting_. He heard them call like a murmur at the back of his head, telling him to look, to search for the things he wanted. He’d let the call go unheeded so far.

\---

Until the day came when a hunter, a dark assassin, fell upon him in a moment of uncharacteristic inattention, silent as the night itself. A creature of darkness hunting its own kind at the orders of Lords or Ladies of the night courts. Someone of great strength and stealth, capable of going unnoticed even to Adrian’s keen senses. Someone with holy blades set in unholy hilts, blades dripping with poisons and holy water. Weapons that in the end were turned on the assassin itself, though not before he had managed to gut Adrian with a particularly nasty barbed blade, foul and dripping of darkness. 

As the assassin turned to dust before him, Adrian fell to his knees, coughing blood. He could feel the wrongness in his guts, the familiar itch of fast healing never kicking in. It took him mere moments to realize he was, in fact, dying. And slow and painful it would be, unless… Unless he fed. And quickly.

The countryside around the castle was all but abandoned, the looming castle casting a shadow no human could thrive in, having driven them all away. He was left without choice - there were two people in the entire world that might gift him their blood swiftly, no questions asked - his former companions. Considering his situation carefully, he chose. Sypha would most likely be the most willing, but she was smaller, slight, of a weaker constitution than Belmont. He couldn’t ask it of her.

He pulled himself along the walls, to his father’s study, trail of blood staining the ground behind him. Inside the room, he let the blood pool on the floor beneath him, calling on the magic within it. He would be leaving the castle completely abandoned and it _needed_ to be protected. Kneeling, he drew runes on the floor in blood, intending a ward powerful enough to keep even creatures of the night away until his own return. He drew a circle across the land, around castle and hold both, an invisible wall to keep what was his, _theirs_ , safe. Feeling the magic take, the air changed, a stillness falling over the castle, as if time had stopped. He’d succeeded.

Struggling to his feet, he used a fair amount of his waning power to pull the shards of his father’s mirror together, commanding it to show him Trevor Belmont.

\---

_A camp in the night, a fire burning, a deer roasting over it. A shape, sitting by the flickering fire, face distorted by flames, sparks and darkness, reds and oranges reflected, dancing in bright, blue eyes. Alone. Unmoving. Trevor Belmont._

\---

Stepping through the mirror portal, Adrian felt a dizzying pull toss him through space in an instant, landing him on his knees beside Belmont. Clutching his stomach, he doubled over, coughing blood. “Help me,” he whispered weakly, before the pain overtook him, stealing his consciousness away. 

\---

Trevor instantly scrambled back, hands going for the whip on his hip, but in the firelight he quickly recognized the crumpled form beside him, the bright hair, though bloodied, still telltale. “The fuck?!” he screeched, clambering over on his knees. 

Grabbing the slumped form by its shoulders, he managed to roll Alucard over onto his side, noticing the deathly paleness of his skin, just shy of turning milky-blue. _Blood loss_. Realizing Alucard had fainted, curled up on himself, he immediately searched for the injury, quickly taking note of the bloodied shirt. Carefully shifting Alucard over on his back, he managed to pry his arms away from his abdomen, giving him room to pull the shirt up. 

The sight was gruesome, a mangled mess of skin, muscle, sinew and blood, and it smelled - reeked of rank death. Festering with dark magic. Reeling, he pulled back momentarily. Any time he’d seen wounds like that previously, they had all lead to the same outcome - a particularly bad one.

Alucard had asked for help, but he was no healer, no doctor. How could he help? Except... _Shit._ _Fuck. Holy hell on Earth._ Blood. It would take blood. _His_ blood. Would he…? Could he…? Biting his lip he considered it. Did he want to? _No_. Would he let Alucard die? Also, _no_. No choice then.

Pulling Alucard’s head into his lap, he breathed in, steadying himself. Pulling a blade from within the folds of his clothing, he held the edge against his palm, drawing it quickly across skin, feeling steel cut deeply. Watching blood well up, red and warm, he curled his fingers inward, almost making a fist. The blood ran freely, but it was a wound he could control. 

Placing his palm over Alucard’s slack mouth, he felt it trickle down, dripping down the vampire’s throat - stillness, coldness, and then not. Hands flashed up to grip his wrist, mouth latched on to skin, though no fangs. Golden, red eyes flashed open, locking with his, desperate, needy. _Fearful and confused._

Trevor’s knee jerk reaction was to pull away from the vampire in his lap, but he managed to still himself, knowing what little he had given was hardly enough to heal such a grave injury. He calmed his breath, calmed his beating heart, stilled his hand, and focused on the pull growing in his arteries, a sensation unlike any other.

He’d been hurt several times over, blood spilt, scars created, but it had never felt like _this_. It pulled the breath from his lungs, felt like it cut years from his life, time ticking down, a burn in his arteries and veins, rubbed raw by the wrongness of it all. And yet, so right, to give of his own to save another. 

As Alucard drank, he seemed to regain his faculties, at least those of his vampire form. The moment the blood slowed its dripping from the wound in Trevor’s hand, he felt the press of fangs against skin, though they stayed. Alucard’s eyes were pleading, burning.

“Do it then,” Trevor said, voice far more ragged than he had anticipated. 

Though a palm was very clearly not the easiest place to bite, Alucard seemed to angle his fangs flat, puncturing skin awkwardly. His eyes fluttered shut with the renewed flood of blood, and he mewled, the sound vibrating up Trevor’s arm - before shooting straight for his cock. _Fuck_! That he hadn’t anticipated. He bit down on his lip, bruisingly, trying not to whimper. 

_God above…_ There wasn’t a fucking chance in Hell Alucard wouldn’t be aware of Trevor’s cock growing hard beneath where his head rested.

\---

Waking to the taste of honey-sweet, _powerful_ blood invading his senses, warm in his mouth, Adrian scrambled for more, more, _more_. His fingers locked around the hunter’s wrist at their own volition, even before he could open his eyes. A strong pulse beat against the tips of his fingers, a drum rhythm, like waves of the ocean crashing against land. The beat drove the blood into his mouth, but too soon the waves slowed, wound already knitting itself together, blood coagulating before he could get to it.

His fangs took on a will of their own, _itching_ to breach skin, and when Trevor’s permission reached his pain- and blood-addled mind, it was sweet relief. It filled his mouth, filled his blood vessels, granted him strength and life anew. The healing itch finally started, warmth growing in his abdomen as he felt tissue knit itself together, grow anew - though slower than usual. He wouldn’t be able to completely heal, not without taking too much from Trevor, but he was saved. Slowly loosening the death grip on Trevor’s wrist, he slowed his consumption, grudgingly coming to a halt. Fangs retracted, though not completely until he had nicked his tongue on one, tasting his own blood well up at its tip. Running the bloodied tip along the gash in Trevor’s palm, across the puncture wounds, he lent Trevor a little of his own healing ability. 

Falling away, relaxing into Trevor’s lap, he then grinned a wicked, blood-soaked grin, Trevor’s _condition_ poking him in the back of his head, quite obvious.

\---

As Alucard’s tongue lapped at his palm, Trevor shuddered, the sensation all too intimate. _Holy fucking Hell below_ , how had he become so undone by a vampire biting into his palm? A male _fucking_ vampire. No soft curves, no gentle hands, no bosom to bury his face in, just _sharpness._ Edges, angles, eyes, words, all like daggers. The only thing soft about Alucard was his glorious mass of pale hair, and looking down Trevor found that his other hand had at some point dropped the knife, only to tangle itself in the silky lengths. Shocked, he quickly tried pulling away, as if burnt by molten metal, only to pull on to hair a little harder than intended.

Alucard hissed, though the sated, otherworldly grin remained on his face. “Careful.”

Trevor halted, and untangled his fingers with a little more care. 

“Thank you,” Alucard then spoke, head still in Trevor’s lap, and Trevor swore he nuzzled against his cock, though the movement was miniscule, almost imperceivable, maybe just a figment of his imagination.

“What the hell happened to you?” Trevor asked harshly, trying to shift his focus, though concentrating on _anything_ was a monstrous task with Alucard staring up at him, bloodied and bright eyed. 

“I...became unfocused. I didn’t sense him coming - an assassin. His weapons were specifically crafted to kill vampires, much like yours. He died painfully, but not before managing to get in a lucky strike - for him, not me.” Alucard stopped talking, instead he looked down and ran his hand along his belly, prodding the skin and muscle gingerly. “Ouch,” he breathed. 

“You’re not healed yet?”

“I am, more or less, just sore. It will actually scar, I can feel it, the magic having caused it extremely powerful.” Apparently drained, exhausted, he sighed. “Let me rest here a moment?” 

“S...Sure,” Trevor stuttered, paralyzed, a slight blush burning across his cheeks. 

Alucard’s eyes fluttered shut, and his breath quickly evened out. Trevor felt baffled, uncomfortable in his own skin. Unsure of what to do with his hands they hovered just above hair and pale skin, until the frozen position became straining and he just let them drop where they were, one to pet Alucard’s hair, the other hand resting above his heart, feeling the slow beat underneath skin and ribs. 

Never having particularly good at processing emotions, his mind felt like a whirlpool, a churning mess of insecurities, doubts and _wants_ he’d never realized he had. Desires he wasn’t even sure was his own in the first place. 

He hadn’t seen Alucard for close to a year, not since they left the castle, and then he suddenly - _and fucking literally_ \- drops into his lap, out of nowhere. What now? He continued watching the _goddamned softly snoring_ vampire with his head in his lap, taking in details he might not have had the time to neither notice nor dwell on in the past. Perfect, pale skin, not a crow’s foot nor a smile line anywhere. Long, golden eyelashes resting against the tops of his cheeks. A slight point to his ears, unveiled as his hair was pulled back and away from them. Soft-looking lips stained blood red. A long, slender neck leading down to his chest, where the angry scar from his father’s attack still screamed. Bloodied belly, newly knit together scar tissue. Long, slender legs, completely relaxed. Narrow hands, long slender fingers curled inwards, one hand tangled in his own hair by just beneath his cheek, like a sleeping babe. 

There was definitely a beauty to him, of the otherworldly, almost-painful-to-look-at kind. Not usually Trevor’s type, he’d run into too many succubi in his days as a monster hunter to ever trust the sort. But Alucard… He trusted Alucard - though he didn’t always necessarily _like_ him.

Another thing to consider was the fact that no matter how he looked at it, this attraction, this desire that grew in him, was contradictory to to order of society - an abomination unto the Almighty - or so he’d been told all his life. Did he care? Did he want to act on it? Would Alucard reciprocate? Was he even interested in the carnal?

When the golden eyes fluttered back up, and the face they graced melted into a _happy_ , relaxed smile, his heart decided all his mind’s troubles were none of its concern, skipping a few beats entirely. His hand in Aucard’s hair froze in place.

“Don’t stop on my account,” the vampire whispered. “Feels good.”

When Alucard again, obviously this time, nuzzled against Trevor’s cock, he came undone - _to fucking Hell with everything, even his own eternal soul if need be._

\---

Adrian felt drunk and drowsy, relishing in the warmth that radiated from Trevor and the scent of arousal that invaded his nose and his mouth. Trevor smelled of forests, rain, undergrowth, earth and blood. No alcohol this time, nothing to drown out the scent of _him_. Intoxicating.

Belmont most definitely was the chink in his armour, the wedge, hammer and maul breaking down the walls of stone he’d built around himself. 

And Trevor apparently wasn’t immune to Adrian himself, judging from the _thing_ prodding against his cheek. _Shameless. Perfect._

Deciding to test the waters, he stretched languidly, making sure to rub against the hardness, just softly enough for it to appear coincidental. The reaction was instant, a twitch, a hitched breath. A wonderful tenseness.

Sitting up slowly, he turned - and crawled into Trevor’s lap, straddling him. Before Trevor could react, he had his fingers under his chin, cradling it, tilting Trevor’s face up. “I’d like to thank you,” he whispered. “For saving me from the clutches of Hell. If you’d let me.” Brushing his thumb against Trevor’s lower lip, he watched it tremble deliciously. 

\---

“Thank me how?” Trevor questioned, though Alucard’s actions couldn’t have been less obvious. It was dumb, he knew it, but his brain was close to shutting down. 

When Alucard leaned closer, he whispered wicked, wondrous things in Trevor’s ear, words that painted images behind his eyelids that made him moan, made him buck up against Alucard, made him grasp for purchase, for _anything_ , to steady himself. Which happened to be Alucard’s ass, firm muscle beneath fabric.

 _The devil take him now_ , he thought. He wanted it. He really did. He wanted everything Alucard was suggesting, all of him. Every bit, body and dark soul. How could he not have realized earlier? Like a year earlier?

_He really was an obtuse dumbass._

\---

“I want to put my mouth on your cock,” Alucard whispered, I want to swallow you down, torment you until you can’t take more, until you fill my mouth with your come.” He rocked against Trevor, punctuating, underlining his wishes, his profane promises. “I want to ride you like a nightmare, your cock buried in my ass, rubbing me raw. I want to dig my nails into your skin, mark you as mine, scar you, brand you. I want my teeth in you, you blood in me. I want you to fuck me into the ground, to make me forget my own name, to make me come by your cock only. I want you to damn yourself, to become darkness, to want me, to have me, to own me, to touch every part of me with those burning hands of yours, inside and out. I want you to walk beside me for the rest of your life, however long or short it might be. I want you to erase the loneliness in my heart. I want you…” Adrian knew he was rambling, spilling his every desire that he had kept buried for so long, but his words seemed to have a profound impact on Trevor, his hands roaming, pulling Adrian closer. 

Trevor’s heartbeat quickened, became erratic, and his warmth grew, enveloping Adrian. Sliding fingers up the nape of Trevor’s neck, fisting brown hair, he pulled, tilting Trevor’ head back to lock eyes with him. “Will you have me?” he asked, voice trembling with all the emotion he usually kept under tight wraps, sending a quick prayer to anyone, anything - holy or not - listening that the answer would be ‘yes’.

\---

Trevor’s words escaped him, this version of Alucard - in his lap promising dirty deeds - the _wickedest, most wonderful_ thing he had experienced in his life. No question about it, he was doomed, damned, headed for Hell in a hurry. He’d long since stopped caring what the Church preached, them having excommunicated him meant very little, as the men of the cloth he had met were mostly greedy, villainous scum pots calling the _goddamned_ kettle black. Where they claimed he was headed in the afterlife meant very little - but he _knew_ that in this moment he was definitely damning himself. And he just couldn’t find it in himself to care, if it meant the fulfillment of the words whispered in his ears. 

Pulling against the hold on his hair he managed a nod. 

\---

Adrian growled, his mouth instantly on Trevor’s mouth, devouring. Long fingers, cradled the back of Trevor’s head, fingers stilled clasped in a dark prayer. “Mine,” he hissed, possessiveness washing over him, dangerously demanding. “Mine, since the day we met. _Mine_ , forever, until the end.”

\---

And Trevor couldn’t deny it - however slow he had been on the uptake. “Yours, _Adrian_.”

 _Adrian_ , because this wasn’t the cold, arrogant _Alucard_ Trevor remembered. This was _Adrian_ , son of a loving mother and a wise, ageless father. This was _Adrian_ \- heat, and fire, and burning desire. This was _Adrian_ , whom Trevor wished he had _seen_ back when. The _Adrian_ whom he wished to see everything of. Now and forever. 

He had fallen, become damned and doomed, and all he could think of was how to get _Adrian_ out of his clothes.

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation? Y/N?


End file.
